


He's Got A Way

by sylvainsbitch



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Background Relationships, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Minor Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Multi, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Oblivious Alexis | Quackity, Sapnap's Bomb Ass Music Taste, Soft Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-14 14:02:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29793018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sylvainsbitch/pseuds/sylvainsbitch
Summary: Everything from Queen to Quadeca gets its turn on the speakers littered throughout the shop while he turns on machines and refills bottles of caramel and mocha sauce that he’s at least ninety-five percent sure the new kid left unfilled when he closed yesterday. He makes a mental note to bring that up to Sam later, but for now he just takes his time going into the back room to hang up his jacket and exchange it for the black apron marked as his by the small embroidered flame on the side that he drapes over his neck and ties around his waist.It's looking to be a long day.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity/Karl Jacobs, Alexis | Quackity/Karl Jacobs/Sapnap, Alexis | Quackity/Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26





	He's Got A Way

**Author's Note:**

> gosh, I haven't written a fic in years, but the mcyt fandom has dragged me back in and I've fallen in love with these three idiots especially.
> 
> this will hopefully end up being multi-chaptered, as this little blurb has become a brain worm that I can't get rid of, though I have only hella vague ideas about how it'll continue. I hope you enjoy this for what it is, at least, and feel free to leave some suggestions in the comments!
> 
> have a wonderful day/night!

With the chill of the morning wind biting into his cheeks, Sapnap fishes through his pocket desperately for the keys. The thin jacket he stole out of Dream’s closet barely covers him, and as he finally fishes out the key he wishes that he took his roommate’s varsity jacket instead. A thought for tomorrow, though, as the warmth of the shop finally engulfs him and he shuts the door behind him. Morning light shines through the windows, painting the whole shop in a warm glow.

Sapnap always takes morning shifts.

And not for the view, not because Sam is a self-proclaimed night owl who, despite his lecturing of others, refuses to sleep before four am and not even because nobody else can handle Tommy before twelve o'clock besides Tubbo.

No, he takes morning shifts because, for a blissful hour, he can blast his music over the shop speakers with nobody to bother him about it, his unfiltered and decidedly not "coffee-shop"-esque playlist can come through and make his day bearable. Everything from Queen to Quadeca gets its turn on the speakers littered throughout the shop while he turns on machines and refills bottles of caramel and mocha sauce that he’s at least ninety-five percent sure the new kid left unfilled when he closed yesterday. He makes a mental note to bring that up to Sam later, but for now he just takes his time going into the back room to hang up his jacket and exchange it for the black apron marked as his by the small embroidered flame on the side that he drapes over his neck and ties around his waist. It matches the small flame tattooed on his left wrist, that he’s had since birth. All that  _ soulmate bullshit _ as some people call it. The small flame on his left wrist shows him what his soulmate(s) will have for him to recognize, and two small icons on his right wrist that will, hopefully, identify his soulmates. 

A small swirl on one corner of his right wrist, colored lightly with purple. Sapnap swears he’s seen it move occasionally, his mom saying it would mean he’s closer to his soulmate. The other is a small duck that, again, he’s seen nudging towards his left wrist. It does it so often at the coffee shop that he’s started wearing only long sleeves while he works. He knows  _ exactly _ why, too, and confronting that would probably fuck up Wilbur’s ability to schedule.

It’s not that he doesn’t believe in soulmates. The opposite, in fact, he’s one of those people who would like nothing more than to settle down with his soulmate- or soulmates, with how his wrist looks- and live a calm and happy life, despite what most people assume about him when they meet him. But he’s only 19, and at this point there’s no point in tripping over himself to force his soulmates into a potentially lifelong relationship, no matter how close one of them may be.

He sighs, tucking his phone back in his pocket and draping Punz’s apron over his arm, walking through the doors of the staff room and into the main area. Sapnap drops his friend’s apron onto one of the still turned over chairs in favor of going behind the bar to plug his phone into the aux for the beat-up speakers that somehow manage to fill the shop with music no matter how near death they may seem. He’s about to open up his Spotify and start up the playlist when he sees a message from Punz, groaning as he reads.

**From: Punzo**

sorry bro can’t make it this morning, feeling like dogshit

wil said he’d find someone to cover

He reluctantly plugs in his phone to the aux, wincing slightly when he hears his text tone ring through the speakers.

**From: Wilby**

You’re opening with Quackity today. 

I’m so sorry.

“Fucking  _ shit _ .”

And just when he was thinking about soulmates. It’s as if the universe is actively trying to spite him.

It’s not that opening with Quackity is bad, per say, it’s just plain painful. A strain on not only his heart but his ability to do his work. The register is easy enough, but when it’s coupled with the constant quips and banter provided by Quackity, the tickle of his wrist and, it seems as he checks the schedule, Tommy,  _ which doesn’t make his day any better, _ he knows it’s about to be a long day. He sets up the speakers and presses play, the music flowing through his speakers as he goes back to hang up Punz’s apron and take Quackity’s off it’s hanger. Sapnap tosses it haphazardly onto the table as he takes down the chairs and sets them up, unable to stop himself from looking up as he hears the door open and close.

“So, ol’ Punz gave you the run around today, huh?”

Quackity’s footsteps bounced off the walls at the same volume as his voice as he picked up his apron off the table, flipping chairs along with Sapnap on his way to hang up his coat. He mentally makes a note to finish those tables as he goes around, sending a half-hearted glare towards the other as he sneaks into the staff room, leaving the door open to keep their conversation going.   
  
“Nah, dude just woke up feeling crappy and had to cancel. You know how it is.”

The younger gives him a hum of understanding, hanging up his coat and exiting the back room once again to start switching on machines and pulling test shots. Sapnap has never been able to follow how Quackity runs around the bar like a madman, moving through machines and seeming to have four hands as he works.   
  
“You want the usual? It’s new espresso, should be pretty good, and I’ll get a nice laugh if it’s not. Plus, Wilbur’s trying out this new chai brand and I need to know if it’s shit before I start getting pissed on by the regulars.”

Of course, Quackity remembers. They only open together once a week, this being a rare bump in their schedule, and every single time it’s Sapnap that drinks the test espresso. It’s a routine that was started because Quackity felt  _ too biased _ to drink it himself, and Sapnap has no clue how to make half the drinks he likes (that’s a lie, he absolutely can, but watching Quackity smile when Sap tells him he got a drink just right is worth the white lie). The iced chai with espresso is his favorite by far, the spice of the chai mixed with the sweetness and bitterness of the espresso making it the perfect balance of flavors to get him through the day.

“You know me too well. Almost like you’re in my head or something, dude.”

It’s a subtly flirtatious remark and, in Sapnap’s eyes at least, it seems to roll off Quackity’s shoulder. The shorter laughs, patting Sap on the shoulder as he goes to switch on the espresso machines and fill them in the way that’ll get the drink that’s been requested. As the eyes of his soulmate stop glancing over at him and Quackity gets engrossed in his work, Sapnap takes a silent deep breath. His heartbeat slows a bit, and he’s able to keep up his opening tasks. He moves from the main cafe floor over to the register, pulling it out to count out the money and make sure the closing crew last night didn’t mess anything up- He knows he can trust Sam, but the poor guy was ending a week of three close-opening shifts in a row because Sapnap had asked him to cover on his day off, and this is the least he can do for the other to shield him from the wrath of Schlatt when it comes to missed numbers.

He’s in the middle of counting when a large cup is placed in front of him. He looks up at Quackity with a small smile, blowing him a kiss and only realizing his mistake when the other laughs, fake-catching it. Sure, the joke-flirting they do when Tommy is on shift to annoy him is one thing, but doing it when it’s just the two of them? He feels like he’s toeing a line that’s way too scary. But Quackity doesn’t seem bothered, so Sapnap just goes back to his counting, only slightly more flustered than he was before.

The hour of opening passes like that, with the buzzing of the machines and the thrum of the music making itself known throughout the shop. Sooner than later, his playlist rolls to a close, and he reluctantly picks up his phone, searching for Wilbur’s spotify and putting on his “chill vibes” playlist. Sapnap doesn’t  _ mind _ Wilbur’s playlists at all, but they’re easier to fall asleep to than stay awake with, and on days where it’s just him and Sam closing they need more than the smooth sounds of Elton John. He puts the phone down on top of the speaker, double checking that his ringer is off before going back over to the register, giving Quackity the thumbs up to unlock the doors. 

It’s looking like it’ll be a long day.


End file.
